Christoff had been sleeping moments before.
When he awoke, panic gripped him — the ship was deserted. His entire group had vanished. Scrambling upright, he climbed halfway up the mast, hoping for a better view. Maybe they were playing a prank.
But halfway up, he froze. A chilling sight met his eyes.
Another ship was following them — not a small pirate vessel, but a grand one, easily three times their size. It loomed closer by the second.
Before Christoff could even shout a warning, soldiers from the massive ship boarded, carrying flintlocks and muskets. They opened fire on the mast.
Gripping a rope, Christoff swung frantically, bullets tearing past him. Against all odds, he laughed.
"Is that all you've got? I've seen anima—"
A cannonball slammed into the mast, snapping it clean in two. Christoff plummeted nearly eleven meters and slammed onto the deck, the impact nearly knocking him unconscious.
Dazed, he lay there — until he heard it: laughter, rising through the wooden floorboards. Commotion. His crew. They'd been hiding below deck the whole time.
Swearing under his breath, Christoff forced himself up.
More pirates stormed onto the deck. Flintlocks cracked. Christoff twisted and ducked, somehow dodging every shot.
One pirate lunged with a sword, but Christoff caught the man's wrist — and his finger — twisting hard.
A fresh volley of musket fire ripped toward him. Thinking fast, Christoff hurled the wounded pirate into the line of fire, using him as a shield.
Another pirate blocked the stairwell below, brandishing a spear.
Without hesitation, Christoff heaved the dead body forward, absorbing the thrust. As the pirate faltered under the weight, Christoff grabbed the fallen flintlock and fired.
The bullet blew the top of the pirate's head off.
Without waiting for the corpse to hit the ground, Christoff sprinted down the stairs toward the underdeck.
At the first cry that pirates were boarding, most of the men scrambled to arm themselves. They didn't have much left — a few swords, daggers, rifles, and pistols. And Tao's polearm, though that was strictly off-limits.
The prince himself had already thrown on part of his armor, weapon in hand.
"Alright, men. Prepare for combat. We can't afford to lose anyone else."
Before he could step forward, Julian cut in front of him — sabre strapped to his left hip rather than his right.
"You can sit back down," Julian said, flashing a grin. "Best not to waste manpower. I'll deal with this."
Tao tried to protest, but Julian slipped through the door and locked it behind him.
Stepping out into the warm summer's day, Julian paused, letting the salty breeze sting the back of his throat.
Only then did he notice — he was standing in a man's scattered brains. He almost slipped in the gore, catching himself with a muttered curse.
A pirate fired a flintlock at him. Julian dodged it with a casual precision that seemed almost inhuman.
He dashed forward, sword flashing, and took the pirate's head clean off with a single sweep.
"Stupid bastards," he muttered, wiping his blade. "Sending a rookie to the front lines."
Cannonballs began to rain from the enemy ship. Julian danced between the blasts as they tore holes through the deck around him — by some miracle, none of them struck the men hidden below.
A group of sword-wielding pirates charged him.
He evaded their clumsy strikes with ease, cutting most of them down in a single, fluid motion.
One pirate — a bit more seasoned — managed to dodge. But before he could react, Julian pressed him into a deadly rhythm.
A barrage of feints and parries followed, less about killing than about control. Julian fought like it was a dance — dictating every step, every clash of steel, every desperate breath.
It was a spectacle: graceful, precise, ruthless. It echoed the old dirk dances of Scotland, sharpened and perfected by a Frenchman's brutal hand.
Even as bullets and cannonballs tore through the air around them, the dance persisted — untouched, unstoppable.
When it ended, the pirate looked less like a man and more like a shredded, blood-red cloth crumpled on the deck.
Then a hearty voice rang out from the enemy ship:
"You've had your fun, Julian. Now I want my bloody ship back."
Julian's heart sank at the sound.
"Oh, shit."
The soldiers sat huddled below deck, trying to wait out the bloodbath raging above.
When bullets and cannonballs started tearing through the walls around them, they crammed themselves into the wine cellar. Tao shielded Xia from the rain of splinters, pulling Lumiere close to help.
"This is your responsibility, you know!" Tao screamed over the crashing and cracking of the ship.
Lumiere stared at him, completely baffled.
"How the hell is she my responsibility?"
"Because you hugged her!" Tao snapped.
"What does that have to do with anything?!"
Tao sighed, as if explaining something painfully obvious.
"Because you held her."
Lumiere blinked, utterly lost.
"So?"
"So that's what people do when they love someone," Tao said bluntly.
Before Lumiere could respond, Moses shouted,
"Can you both shut up? We're trying to survive here!"
"He's right," Wilhelm chimed in. "Also, how about we ask her what she thinks?"
They all glanced down at Xia — who had passed out from the sheer intensity of the situation.
"Okay, we'll ask her when she wakes up," Wilhelm said confidently.
Moses let out a loud, frustrated groan.
"How are none of you pissing yourselves? Our ship is literally being torn to shreds!"
Wilhelm chuckled under his breath.
"I always said real men aren't afraid of dying."
Idris leaned in, smirking.
"Looks like Kolya didn't get the memo."
Kolya sat in the corner, beads clutched tightly in his hands, muttering prayers under his breath.
"It's normal to pray when you're staring death in the face," he muttered. "I'd expect you to do the same."
Idris cackled.
"Hard to bow your head when there's bullets spraying through the ceiling."
Without a word, Lumiere quietly began praying too. Moses followed a moment later.
Wilhelm burst into laughter alongside Idris.
"You always said religion was pointless!"
"Yeah, well," Moses said, crossing himself with a shaking hand, "dying is more pointless."
The two of them broke into loud, almost hysterical laughter, trying to smother their fear under the noise.
All the while, Tao sat with a scowl locked onto Lumiere, who curled smaller under the intensity of his stare.
Then — silence.
The soldiers murmured among themselves, confusion and dread creeping into the sudden quiet.
Moments later, Julian appeared at the door, bloodied but smiling grimly.
"Follow me," he said. "Ship's gonna sink soon anyway."
As the group stepped up toward the deck — or rather, its remains — they were greeted by the sight of the pirate's ship letting down a ladder.
Julian began to climb and urged the others to follow.
As the soldiers began to ascend, Tao approached Lumiere from behind and propped Xia on his back.
"You know, man, if you're gonna be her husband, then you're gonna need to take a bit more initiative."
Lumiere sighed in acceptance of his friend's obliviousness.
As he began to climb, Xia stirred against his back. He almost lost his grip on her, but managed to keep hold.
"Mm... you smell nice," she murmured.
Lumiere was clearly defeated at this point.
"You're really not helping with these allegations," he muttered.
As they entered the dock, they were met with an intimidating sight, to say the least.
Standing before them was an incredibly tall man, almost eight feet high. His muscles were polished and grown to the point they could even be seen through his many lavish robes.
Around his belt he carried a small dagger, a clock, and a mirror. His beard was so bushy that, at a glance, he could almost be mistaken for a bear.
"Salutations, all of you. I welcome you to my humble boat," he said, flashing a wide, toothy grin. Notably, one of his teeth was made of gold.
"Why don't you introduce me, Julian?" he added.
Julian's eyes widened at the request.
"Uh, yes, of course... Everybody, this is the Count Saint-Germain." He trailed off slightly. "He's my benefactor — and the owner of my ship."
The Count rested his monstrous hand upon Julian's head.
"Make yourselves at home, everyone. We're on our way to Naples, so in the meantime, you can tell me all about why you're travelling with this waste of space," he said, yanking on Julian's hair as he spoke.
As Wilhelm stared at him, one thought echoed through his mind:
"I hate him."